


Redemption calls (onto all of those who persist)

by Sevi007



Series: The Devil's own luck [8]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dante and Vergil are back, Dysfunctional Family, Family Feels, Gen, Post-Game, Redemption, Spoilers, Takes place a few months or weeks after the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 08:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18090944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevi007/pseuds/Sevi007
Summary: (Spoilers for DMC5, Post-Game) Finding a way back to himself, back to his brother, and out of Hell - Vergil learns that those had been the easier parts of his new journey. Because redemption is not simply offered on a silver plate, and bonds take time to forge.But Nero might just be worth all of that.





	Redemption calls (onto all of those who persist)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PEARWINE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PEARWINE/gifts), [rex101111](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rex101111/gifts).



> I believe that, when the first surprise and relief have worn off, Nero will still have a lot of reason to be angry at Vergil - the dude did a whole LOT of things wrong. And Verigl probably freaks the f*ck out because "Holy shit I have a son, how do I Dad, I HAVE NO IDEA". Or something like that. 
> 
> So I wanted to address that (and literally wrote the twins back out of Hell), see them work to meet somewhere in the middle. 
> 
> I apologize if Vergil is a bit OOC it's my first time writing him, and he's a hard one to understand. Nero, too - at least so much focus on him is new for me. I did try my best. =D
> 
> [See here for a Chinese Translation](http://xsy98622.lofter.com/post/1df137d1_12e5c58f6) that yizhibaiye so kindly did! =D

_“Thought I would have to pick you out of his, uh, tummy teeth.”_

_“Pardon my delay. I was catching up on some reading.”_

_“Yeah… looks like a real page-turner.”_

**-**

**Nero and V, Mission 3**

_“I just remembered something… This town was attacked once before.”_

_“Is that so?”_

_“Yes. I can still see it. In fact, I was playing here. That was the house.”_

_“…”_

_“… Here we part ways. You go ahead.”_

_“You’re gonna miss all the fun.”_

_“No. I must seek out the devil sword Sparda.”_

_“Yeah, that’s not a good idea, trust me.”_

_“You’re not the only one who thinks so.”_

**-**

**V and Nero, Mission 7**

_“You can come out now!”_

_“I guess I owe you one.”_

_“You should turn around. Your body is not gonna hold out much longer.”_

_“That, I cannot do. I must go!”_

_“Dammit, V! Don’t push yourself. You need some rest!”_

_“I have to go… to where Urizen is!”_

_“Why?! Why do you have to-…”_

_“I beg you! This is my last request.”_

_“Fine! Ugh, Dante’s definitely gonna beat us there…”_

_*V smiles*_

**-**

**Nero and V, mission 15**

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Fortuna.

Of all the places he had been to in his life, this city was not one he had expected to return to one day, with his business here finished and other goals to be chased.

 

 _Ah, but you didn’t think you would return to **anything,**_ a tiny voice in his mind mocked, sounding suspiciously like the croak of a bird. _Didn’t think you would come back from this last fight, did’cha, boy?_

Vergil scowled into the sky before him, banning the voice – memory, ghost, whatever it was – back into his subconsciousness. _No more of this. I woke up from you._

Part of him expected a reply still. Waited for the flutter of wings, the pressure of claws on his shoulder, mocking and taunting in his ear. It didn’t come. Of course it didn’t, he told himself sternly, that part of him was gone, chased away like dark dreams in the morning sun.

 

The only noise left behind was the avid chatter and laughter drifting up from the garden stretched down below. People talking over each other, laughing together. The sound of cutlery being set on tables, glasses clinking and chairs and tables being pushed together to make room for everyone, interspersed with easy chats.

Below him, life continued on, as if nothing had happened. As if they _hadn’t_ all been in danger of being wiped of this earth mere months ago.

Easy companionship. High spirits. _Celebrating_ _their return from Hell,_ had been said, but he had the hunch that these people did not really _need_ a reason to sit together and celebrate, if they felt like it.

 

Nero had seemed at ease in the middle of things. Not as open and enthusiastic about it as the girl ( _Kyrie_ , Vergil recalled, the name not easily forgotten due to her very _resolute_ reception of him upon his return). But still, the young man had easily greeted the various people who had showed up, accepting hugs and pats readily, striking up conversations freely.

It shouldn't have been a surprise. The boy considered these people friends, most of them family, even.

Vergil, on the other hand, must have counted for neither of those options.

 

He had left (not fled, _never_ fled, he told himself) the scene at the earliest chance, when not too many people had been looking. Had chosen the highest point of the house’s roof as his refuge, to watch attentively and think.

Bright blue eyes had followed him, he knew, had all but burned into his back, but he had ignored it. If his brother wanted something from him, he would find him. Not even the deepest depths of hell or the highest point of a cursed tree had stopped his brother before. A roof would be a joke in comparison.

 

A deep voice started a sing-song right behind him, words full of mockery and taunt, “Vergil, Vergil, sitting on a roof, K-I-S-S-I-…”

_Speak of the devil._

“If you keep that up,” Vergil warned without even turning around. “I will stab you. Again.”

“Aaaah,” Dante nodded wisely while he dropped beside his brother, legs dangling dangerously over the edge for the blink of an eye until he shifted and settled. Sprawled out leisurely, he flapped a hand at the other. “Still pissed cuz I one-upped you, I see.”

“Your counting is getting worse. I am currently leading.”

“Pfffft, sure, bro, sure.”

 

A fall from the roof, Vergil reflected, would sadly _not_ do his twin any harm, even if he put all his strength into giving him a much needed push.

“Did you _want_ something, Dante?”

Dante hummed non-committally, lounging so close to the edge it was a miracle gravity didn’t take hold of him yet. He didn’t start talking – which, probably, was the most ironic thing the more talkative of the two could have done.

Finally, Vergil’s finger already twitching as he went over the idea with the push again, Dante spoke up. “You know, I would have figured you would at least _try_ before running again.”

Pretense would not work, not on him, but Vergil tried, anyway, eyes closing as he summoned whatever calmness he still had left. “No one is running from anything, dear brother.”

“ _Dear brother_. You only call me that when you’re seriously out of it. And you don’t even mean it.”

“I do wonder why that is.”

“So, you’re running,” Dante ignored the comment which dripped with sarcasm, going in for the kill instead, “Because how I see it is - you’re _up here_ , and the kid is _down there,_ so do tell me how you guys are gonna talk this out?”

 

 _Of course._ Vergil closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly, the prospect of a trusty nightmare at his side was more enticing than having his twin here instead. Then again, there was not much difference between the two. “What should we _talk out,_ in your opinion?”

“Hm, let me think about that…,” Dante drawled. “Right. _Perhaps_ that he’s your _son?_ Happy Father’s Day, by the way. I think you missed a few of those in the last years.”

“You are simply stating a _fact_. There is nothing to discuss about it.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Vergil, I thought we talked about this - at least give the kid a _chance_ to get to know you, you stubborn asshole.”

Avoiding the other’s gaze when he could all but taste the disappointment in his words was no longer possible, and Vergil glanced over, feeling horribly tired. “I am not who he remembers.”

“Well, yeah,” Dante stared back at him, slightly askance, fully exasperated. “Not much he _could_ remember, with you being phenomenally absent for… eh. _All his life?”_

The urge to snap _And **whose** fault is that? _was there, clawing at his insides like a living beast. Vergil swallowed it down, forced himself to think _No._

_He_ had been the one too blind, not Dante. _He_ had been the one to jump head first, without thinking of what exactly he was possibly leaving behind.

It had taken him breaking apart to put together what mistakes he had made. He would _not_ forget again.

 

One breath, two, three, and the urge subsided. He was getting better at ignoring that old, bitter part of himself which tried to convince him everything was his twin’s fault. A reflex honed over years, and not easily unlearned now. He fought to banish it, dispatching it every day a bit more, with each interaction with his… his family.

 _Family_.

That particular word would take some time to get used to.

 

Dante was still watching him, expectant and accusing at the same time, he knew, yet Vergil didn’t meet his gaze. There was nothing he could say in his defense, and the only explanation for his statement was one Dante wouldn’t understand.

He didn’t even understand it fully, himself. He only knew that there was… something. _Something_ which was _his_ , but not _quite_. Memories in his mind, fuzzy things, like a nice dream he once had and now couldn’t recall clearly. A part of him that remembered a helping hand, a shoulder offered to lean on, a now-familiar becoming voice reminding him to rest, to take it easy. Remembered the relief that came with it, with having someone to count on, to _trust_.

There was a man who remembered Nero as something more than a stranger.

 

_(- “V you gotta rest” - )_

_(- “I guess I owe you one.” -)_

 

(- _the tool, the last hope_ , _the **boy** , Nero, **Nero**_ -)

 

(Why had his first thought upon reassembling the halves of his very being been to _thank_ this boy, someone who had been a stranger to him then? It had been there, the words right on the tip of his tongue, stronger than the old urge to win and proof himself right. His heart had beat and beat and beat, each thrum a whisper of _You remember him, you do, you **do** …) _

But he _wasn’t_ that man anymore. He _didn’t_ remember. Not really. Not _himself_.

_Tche, and not gonna do anything about that, are ya?_

This time, his hand nearly twitched upwards to shove someone off his shoulder – before he noticed there was nothing to shove _at_. No feathers nor claws, no sharp beak pecking him for trying.

Deliberately, he lowered his hand again, balling it into a fist to keep it where it was.

 

If Dante had noted his sudden movement, he did not to comment on it. Instead the younger rolled around with a grunt, away from the edge, and stood in a way that somehow managed to be casual yet graceful. Stretching with a loud yawn, Dante squinted into the setting sun for a moment – only to turn and kick his brother in the lower back. Hard. “ _That’s_ for being an obstinate asshole.”

Vergil grunted, glared, but didn’t so much as budge or fight back. “Obstinate. I’m surprised you even know what that means.”

The grin Dante sent him back was more teeth than anything else, eyes a hard glint to them. “Good thing the kid is better in this whole family department than we _both_ are, jackass. He isn’t going to let you off the hook _that_ easily.”

 

It took Vergil a second to make the connection, and once he did, he nearly cursed out loud, out of character as it was. Head swiveling around, he did indeed catch sight of the young man standing at a distance, balanced on top of the roof as if gravity didn’t concern him, hands shoved into his pockets and watching the twins with a slight frown.

Nero noticed his gaze and lifted a hand in greeting after an awkward, fidgety pause. He stood ramrod straight, shoulders tense and clearly uncomfortable – but also like someone on a mission, not ready to back down a single step, jaw set and head held high.

 

Vergil hadn’t felt him coming, much less heard, too caught up in the presence of his twin… which probably had been the plan all along.

Much to his displeasure, Dante proved to be immune to his death glare, shrugging at him. “Told you. Not off the hook.”

“You just _can’t_ mind your own business, can you.”

“You knew _that_ already,” and then, all casualness was gone. Dante moved with the speed of a striking demon, too fast for the human eye, and all of sudden he was _there,_ right in Vergil’s space, hand on his twin’s shoulder like a vice, forehead to forehead, blue boring into blue. “Listen up here, Vergil – no idea what’s going on in that head of yours, but Nero is _not me._ He is _not you._ I learned that the hard way, and you will have to learn that, too. So whatever got you all stuck up about this; get over it, and quick. You’re not gonna get an endless amount of chances, capisce? _You already_ _got a lot more than others did._ ”

Instinctively and beyond his control, Vergil tried to avoid the gaze burning into his, only to find that it was impossible, partly because of the hand on his shoulder like a steel shackle, partly because of the sheer intensity in those eyes. Trapped and backed into a corner, he ground out between clenched teeth, “ _I_ _know that.”_

“Oh, good.”

In the blink of an eye, Dante had backed off again, rocking back with the biggest grin on his face, hands put on his hip as if nothing had happened just now. A quick glance over to Nero – the younger still kept a respectful distance, staring off into the distance now as if this did not concern him – and Dante got serious again, voice low, “Like I said – he’s better at this than we are. He’s better than you. Better than _me_. So get a move on and _try_ , you deadbeat of a father.”

Then, softer, but no less stern. “He deserves it. Don’t fuck this up, Verge.”

 

With one last salute, mocking through and through, Dante turned and wandered off, leaving Vergil behind to comprehend everything that had been flung at him. Dimly, the older of the two noted how Dante stopped when he reached Nero, clapping the younger on the shoulder with a bright grin. A quick conversation, an eyeroll from Nero followed by an elbow into the elder’s rips, answered with a loud, bellowing laugh from the man. Then they separated again, pushing past each other gently.

Dante jumped off the roof without looking back once.

 

Vergil turned to look out over the city again (not much had changed, he noted, even if his memory of it was blurred and apparently the place had seen some rebuilding after demon attacks).

He made a point out of _not_ looking, _not_ checking what Nero would do. Cursing to himself for getting tricked into this so easily.

Quiet footsteps resounded, firm, not hesitating. They stopped next to him, before Nero lowered himself to sit beside him, feet dangling over the edge.

 

They sat in silence for a while, Nero’s gaze wandering down to the group in the garden, then over the city that had been his home all his life.

Then, finally, the younger spoke up, “You didn’t come over to greet us.”

Teeth grinding together for a second ( _not even straight to the point_ ), Vergil tightened his shoulders, pulling himself up straight. “There were enough others to do so.”

“Right. Sure. So, what now? You avoiding your own party?”

“This _party_ has nothing to do with me.”

“Yeah?” Now there was sharpness to Nero’s voice, even though he had tried to sound casual before. “The whole thing is about celebrating you guys getting back out of Hell alive. Would think that _does_ concern you.”

Something _cracked_ inside of Vergil – too many people trying to _talk_ to him when all he wanted was silence to sort his thoughts, too many suspicious looks, too many voices in his mind not his own, too many decisions to make – and he snapped, ice lacing his words, “And me being alive is something to _celebrate_ for you, yes?”

“After I busted my ass off to keep you dumbasses alive?” Nero’s voice had risen for a second, before he seemed to remember that there where people down there who could hear him. Obviously restraining himself through sheer willpower alone, he finished in a hiss, “ _Yes_ , dammit, it _is_.”

 

It should have made him angry, this _child_ speaking in such a manner to him. The flaming gaze and bared teeth and balled fists should have put him on _defense_.

Surely, Vergil reflected, angry and confused at himself, _surely_ this simple, angrily thrown out statement shouldn’t have made him feel _relieved._

_(You remember him, you do, you **do** …) _

He closed his eyes against the heady, unfamiliar rush of emotions, willing them back, back into a heart that beat stronger and steadier than it had in years, demanding to be heard in a way he hadn’t felt in decades.

Better get this over with, before he did something stupid, Vergil thought – and took the leap. “If you have something to say, then _speak_.”

 

“I still think you’re a damn asshole.”

 

The words were quick, blurted out in such a rush as if they had wanted to come out of their own volition. For a second, Nero himself looked as if he was surprised by his outburst, before he frowned, turning away. He talked to the skyline instead, probably unaware of the way Vergil stared at the back of his head as he went. “I mean… _fuck_. Fuck, you cut my damn _arm_ off! _And_ you tried to _kill_ Dante, who… who tries to kill their own brother?! That’s not even all you did – fuck, you, just _– fuck you_ , okay?! Fuck you, for all the shit you tried to pull. But, Dante, me… You did that to _your own_ _family,_ you dick, you don’t just… you don’t just _do_ that. Okay? It’s fucked up, that’s what it is. _You’re_ fucked up.”

Silence settled between them, charged and heated, only interrupted by Nero’s heavy breathing, as if the young man had just fought a tough battle and was out of breath for it.

 

Then, just when Vergil had half a mind to up and leave (clearly, the boy had said what he had to say know, right, this was _it,_ this was _over)_ Nero breathed in deeply, a hitching sound, before letting it out again in a hiss. When he spoke, his shoulders had lost some of their tension, and he seemed to ponder something. “But… like a friend of mine said not too long ago… without you, I wouldn’t be here. You’re my _family_. And I know there’s more to you than all _that_.”

 

Too late, much too late, did Vergil realize that Nero’s gaze had dropped to something in the younger’s hand, gripped tightly but carefully.

All his anger evaporated as he caught sight of it - the old, slightly battered book gleamed golden in the light of the setting sun. A soft spot left wide open for all to see.

No.

Left in good, caring hands.

 

(- “ _Hold onto that until then_ ” -)

 

As if sensing the elder’s gaze, Nero snapped up and around – eyes so bright they were nearly luminous, brows furrowed, the book raised like a weapon. A proof. Voice like steel, he repeated, “I _know_ there is more to you.”

They stared at each other, blue into blue, nothing between them apart from a book and a decision. Nero looked like he _dared_ him to disagree, to deny what he had just said.

Vergil found that he couldn’t do so.

 

And finally, when the denial didn’t come, Nero seemed to come to a decision. Nodding to himself, he all but _jabbed_ a finger of his free hand against Vergil’s chest, not heading the fact that the older didn’t budge and merely lifted a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“So this is how this show is going to go from now on – _you_ fucked up _big time._ And _I_ saved your ass more than once. You _owe_ me,” there was a hint of knowing and smugness in Nero’s expression, and Vergil had a sense of déjà-vu, since that looked all too familiar, “You said so yourself. In fact, I would say you owe me _several times over_ , asshole. That’s one ripped off arm, at least two times I saved your sorry ass, and I’m pretty sure there’s more. Would say that means you have some _redeeming_ to do.

And you _will_ ,” now, Nero’s voice was sharp and unforgiving, eyes blazing as he jabbed again, not minding the twitch in Vergil’s face. “Because, again – _you owe me._ ”

 

For a moment, Vergil was struck speechless. There would have been a time, once, when this young one talking to him in such a way would have made him furious, would have had anger roar inside of him like wildfire.

It didn’t come, this time. Because the boy was _right._ He _did_ owe him, had said so himself. If he broke his word now, Vergil knew with certainty, then he would never get another shot at… this. At getting to know Nero, the person he had caught glimpses off and had been _proud_ of.

And that person - his _son_ \- wouldn’t let him off the hook, not that easily.

 

Vergil felt a smirk stretch over his face, respect and amusement flickering inside him. “Did you already plan on _how_ this… _redemption_ is supposed to go, as well?”

Narrowing his eyes, Nero mulled the answer over, the gaze sweeping over his opposite calculating. Finally, he snorted, leaning back and crossing his arms, chin raised. “You’re going to help with the rebuilding of Red Grave City, for starters. I don’t care how – if you send money for repairs over or fucking lay bricks yourself to rebuild, your decision. That destruction was _your_ fault, and _you_ will make up for that.”

His breath was momentarily knocked out of Vergil at the prospect of having to see _that city_ again – roots of his he had believed to be unrooted now – before he nodded jerkily, teeth clenched.

Satisfaction gleamed in Nero’s eyes. He seemed to grow surer about this the longer the other didn’t disagree. “Next of – fucking stop trying to kill Dante.”

“That,” Vergil pointed out, almost mildly, “we have already stopped.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, don’t start it again. It’s bullshit, and I would just have to beat you guys up again,” Nero waved it off, clearly disinterested in hearing any more about it. Missing the way Vergil’s lips twitched into a grin for the blink of an eye. “And – turn it down with the asshole attitude. Not saying you gotta become a damn saint here, but nobody here is trying to slit your throat in your sleep, so stop acting like it.”

There was probably no point in telling the younger that he wasn’t all that sure if nobody ever at least felt the urge to do just that to him, so Vergil simply nodded mutely in response to that before, “Anything else?”

 

“A lot, probably,” Nero answered without missing a beat. “We will see about that when we get there.”

Vergil huffed, amused despite himself.

Nero looked him up and down again, considering. Then his posture relaxed slightly, forearms resting easily on his knees, shoulders slumping. “You’re _actually_ not complaining about it.”

“Would it change anything?” A frown pulling at his expression, Vergil rolled his eyes. The quiet awe in Nero’s voice about that fact did not feel good at all. _Had he not thought that Vergil would at least try?_

“Nah. Just thought you would try to bargain at least.”

“I do not bargain about things,” Vergil frowned at the thought – well, perhaps there had been times where he should have done so. “I face what comes my way.”

“Head first through walls, huh?”

“I’ve been told I can be stubborn before, if you meant to imply that.”

At that, Nero laughed, quiet and deep. It was a surprisingly joyful sound nonetheless, and touched something in Vergil that he had thought long gone.

 

When Nero looked back up, past him and upwards, he was fully relaxed, eyes crinkling in silent amusement. “Hey, I just thought about something else you could do.”

Barely holding back a groan – did the younger have a _list_ of deeds for him? – Vergil tilted his head in the other’s direction, signaling he was listening.

Nero kept his gaze on the sky above them, biting down on a smirk while he scratched his nose, pretending to think. “You know, I could use some help doing the dishes later.”

Vergil could feel his eyebrow twitching up in obvious surprise before he could stop it – the lapse in his expression clearly noted, since Nero’s smirk widened. At least his voice was still under his control, flat and cool as he more stated than asked, “The dishes.”

“You heard me.”

“You are not serious.”

“This is how I sound when I’m serious. You better get used to it real quick.” Nero must have noticed the disbelief on Vergil’s face, for he smirked, shoulders moving in what could have been a tiny shrug or suppressed laughter. “You did see how many people we invited, right? And Dante eats for three. There’s going to be a lot of dishes, and _I’m_ not gonna do it alone.”

 

Vergil could only stare at this curious young man ( _son, family, **his** ), _who surely must be mocking him right now.

Who could have, _should have_ put him down, should have torn into him, should have- he should have hated him.

The younger could have asked anything of him, in his debt as he was.

And he asked him to do inane chores.

 

_“He’s better than you. Better than me.”_

 

Was that… was that an offering? A chance?

His mind drew blank as to what he should do with this information, this turn of events.

 

_“Don’t fuck this up, Verge.”_

 

The rest of him, however, seemed to know, deep down. There was a mixture of warmth and something else, bright and strong, spreading through him, curling gently in his chest as if to stay there permanently.

Vergil didn’t feel like analyzing it. Not right now, at least.

 

He closed his eyes, tilted his face towards the setting sun. For the first time since taking this place high above the buzzing, lively group down in the garden, he felt the warmth on his face, the breeze caressing through his hair. Free enough of the thoughts repeating over and over in his head that he could pay attentions to the world around him again.

“Very well, then,” he conceded at last.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t see it, but the smirk in Nero’s voice palpable. “Alright, sweet. Counting on you.”

 

This time, the silence that settled between them held no anger, only a sense of calm.

Only to be interrupted from an outside source a minute later.

 

“GUYS!”

 

They both looked down to see Nico waving up at them with one arm, her free hand cupped before her mouth as a makeshift megaphone.

“What?!” Nero bellowed back.

“GET DOWN HERE, FOOD IS GONNA BE READY SOON!”

“If it’s not ready _yet_ , there’s no need to yell at us already!”

“MOVE YOUR ASS, YOU HANDSOME DEVIL!”

 

“I told you not to _call_ me that,… oh fuck’s sake,” Nero sighed, even though it didn’t sound sincere, and rock back and forth to push himself to his feet in one fluid motion. Clapping some dust off, he hesitated, gaze flickering down to where Vergil was still sitting. “You, ah. You coming?”

Gesturing vaguely, Vergil shook his head. “In a minute.”

“Suit yourself. But I’m not bringing you _any_ food up here.”

It was a good thing Nero had already turned away, else he might have caught the little upwards twitch of Vergil’s lips in response.

 

Vergil, however, saw full well how Nero gingerly, almost tenderly, held the book full of poems against his chest as he made to leave, thumb caressing over the thin spine mindlessly.

It was a kind of care Vergil remembered clearly, from days long gone – days spent in libraries and bookshops, surrounded and soothed by bound pages and written words. And the books he had been most careful with had been those… Those he knew and loved.

“You read it.”

The question – statement – seemed to throw Nero for a second. He turned, gaze following that of the older back to the book, and realization dawned. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips (tugged at Vergil’s loud, demanding heart) as he ducked his head a little.

Scratching his cheek, Nero shook his head, “Didn’t finish. Missing a few poems yet.”

He must have misread something in Vergil’s expression, since he coughed lightly, scratching again, not meeting the other’s eyes. “I might have read a few of them multiple times. That takes time, okay.”

A quick glance over at the older, then Nero frowned, seeming to realize something. “What, you want it back? I mean, it’s yours, so…”

“Keep it.”

 

Nero halted in his movement, the hand offering the book halfway extended, eyebrows arched. Staring.

Vergil wasn’t much better off, surprised that he heard himself speak so quickly, so thoughtlessly. He clucked his tongue – at himself or Nero, he wasn’t sure – and gestured at the book between them. “Missing a few, you said. You should not leave things unfinished. It does not… seem to be your style.”

A beat, two… then something flickered over Nero’s face, the shift too quick for Vergil to analyze. Eyes narrowing then widening, before a slow, warm smile stretched over the young man’s face, growing into a crooked grin.

 

(It was the first time he had the younger see truly smile in his vicinity, part of Vergil noted.)

 

“Yeah, well,” Nero said, slowly, smile still there and softening his expression into something warm and open. He pulled the book back, safely tucking it into his jacket again. “Guess I inherited a stubborn streak from _someone_. Don’t do well with giving up halfway through.”

Processing that for a second, Vergil huffed, shaking his head as he turned away from the younger. “I see.”

Retreating steps could be heard, and Nero called over his shoulder. “Don’t let the food get cold.”

 

Vergil waited until he sensed that he had been left alone on the roof, before allowing himself to breathe out, deep and slow.

His heart beat steady and strong.

No urge to blame, to fight, to leave. No drive to chase after faraway goals.

Only quiet and peace.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Maybe his disappearance hadn’t gone as unnoticed as he had thought, since there where very obvious reactions once Vergil tried to slip back into the middle of things without being seen. People fell silent in the middle of their sentence, heads turned and gazes followed him about.

 

Opting to ignore them, he straightened and made his way past them, keeping his attention on getting something to eat. Behind him, the conversations picked up again, yet he could feel the prickle of being watched every now and then, the hairs at his neck rising under the scrutiny, skin feeling itchy and tight due to it.

He didn’t let it show, didn’t let it deter him. Used the satisfied little curl of Nero’s lips once the younger spotted him in the crowd as his guide instead.

At least to the young man, he was welcome here. That would have to be enough for now.

 

He walked along the table that obviously served as the buffet, almost buckling under its load of an assortment of different food. Passing the stack of pizza cartons, smirk twitching around his lips at the sight, he halted, considered his options, and settled on some pasta, filling one of the plates at hand to the brim much like he had seen the other guests do.

For a moment, he almost forgot about the people around him, until a soft voice addressed him. “Vergil?”

 

A gentle hand on his elbow, the touch soft and light, stopped him in his tracks, more efficiently than any foe could ever had. He dropped his gaze to the fingers resting on him – asking for attention, not demanding, not restricting – and followed the length of the slender arm, up to Kyrie’s face.

She was smiling, eyes soft and warm with… amusement, of all the things. “I just wanted to tell you - don’t mind what Nero said.”

Alerted, Vergil narrowed his eyes at her, pondering what she could have heard of their conversation. It had not been all that personal, yet still it was… more than he felt comfortable with, to share with a stranger.

Kyrie blinked, before she laughed, raising a hand to her mouth to smother it. “Oh, no, I wasn’t listening in! I meant about the help with the dishes. Nero told me about it. You don’t have to do that of course - you’re our guest, after all.”

 

She didn’t mention any of the other demands Nero had made, even though Vergil was suddenly very sure that she knew about those, too. Even to him, it had been clear how close those two were, how much his son counted on the strong partner by his side, and vice versa.

Yet it was not her place to discuss those with him, and she knew that as well. He felt a sudden respect for this young woman well up in him, impressed by her loyalty to Nero.

 

Shoulders relaxing minutely, Vergil was about to answer, when it abruptly occurred to him that she had read his thoughts easily that, simply from his expressions. How curious and… confusing. Carefully schooling his face back into a neutral expression, voice quiet, he murmured lowly, “It is of… it is no trouble.”

 _Of no matter,_ seemed wrong, he reflected, for it felt like it _did_ , simple a task as it was.

Kyrie examined his expression, pursing her lips – only to start smiling again after a moment. “Alright, if you say so…”

“Hm.”

“… then, thank you in advance.”

The hand on his arm squeezed lightly before she pulled away, turning to survey the buffet. Taking up a plate and selecting a menu for herself, she smiled one last time at him, looking him straight in the eye, clearly happy when he inclined his head ever so slightly at her. And then she was gone again, easily weaving through people who made way for her.

Vergil watched her reach Nero at the other side of the garden. Watched still as Kyrie rose to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek, causing a bright smile to stretch over his face while he leaned down to murmur something into her ear, causing loud, happy laughter to echo over the little crowd. Was still watching as Kyrie picked something of her plate to offer it for Nero to eat…

 

Something old and long forgotten steered in Vergil’s memory –peaceful days, when father had come back home, carrying with him presents and tales. Mother’s eyes that had shone bright with laughter as her husband lifted her and twirled her around. Evenings spent curled together, four bodies all but wrapped around each other while father’s deep voice told them stories of places far away, and mother’s laughing protests when the stories got too adventurous and bloody rang out, even though the twins had fake-pouted for more.

This… this little scene he was witnessing here was a private scene, achingly familiar and yet something he was a stranger to. Suddenly feeling like an intruder, Vergil resolutely turned his back on the pair and walked away, aiming for the table that had been set up in a corner of the garden.

 

Much to his displeasure – at least he told himself so – Dante had already found his way to the table as well. Feet kicked up onto a corner of the wooden surface, arms crossed behind his head and rocking dangerously on the back legs of the chair, his twin grinned up _way_ too smugly at him as he approached. “What did I catch back there? _You_ , doing _chores_?”

Not dignifying with an answer what the other obviously knew already, Vergil picked a seat nearly at the opposite end of the table, getting comfortable.

“Kid must really have kicked your ass if you agreed to that.”

“He had good arguments to base his demands on. In fact, this part was the easiest one,” Vergil relented, ducking his head to hide his own smirk as Dante laughed at that. “He will make me work for it.”

“As he should. Good kid.”

Nothing in Dante’s voice gave the feeling as if he was joking with that comment, only fondness and respect audible when one listened close enough – _knew_ _him_ well enough.

And Vergil found himself agreeing with it. There would be a lot to do and atone for, yet… the reward might just be worth it. He considered the situation he found himself in in silence for a while, and came to a conclusion. “… I will. Work for it, that is.”

 _Will work to make it right_ , was left unsaid.

“Yeah?” Dante tilted his head to look at his twin, blinking in surprise, then grinned brightly and turned away again. “Good for him. For you both.”

“Hm-hm.”

 

“Would you look at these guys,” an amused voice cut between them, both twins turning as Trish approached, carrying a glass and nothing else with her. “They started without us.”

“Rude,” announced Lady, skipping past the blonde woman and around the table to look for a seat herself. “Must run in the family.”

“Okay, you take that back,” Nero shot back, snorting to himself as he observed the table. Behind him, the rest of the guests followed. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Fine, leaving you out of this one.”

“Thank you _so_ much.”

 

“Okay, just to make this clear,” Dante announced, letting his chair fall back into a horizontal position and leaning over the table to accept the plate Kyrie handed him with a cheeky wink and mischievous grin. “I want a new, _clean_ plate for every pizza I eat. No cartons. We got to give Mister Dishwasher here something to do.”

Vergil looked up from his plate just enough to send _another_ inefficient glare in his twin’s direction. He received a toothy grin for his troubles. _Figures._

“Dante, don’t be a di-…,” Nero stopped himself, eyes flickering to Kyrie who hid a smile behind her hand, before he turned back to scowl at Dante, “Don’t. Just, don’t.”

“Aw com’ on, kid…”

“No.”

“It’s just fun! Good ol’ fun between…”

“I’m going to punch you again, old man.”

Dante closed his mouth abruptly with a quiet click of teeth, leaning back with his plate and one hand raised in surrender.

 

The gesture of submission drew a bout of laughter from the people around them. Trish was grinning so brightly it must have hurt, and Lady was hooting with mirth. Even Kyrie was shaking with barely withheld laughter.

Morrison wiped away at tear before clapping Nero on the back, who looked up a bit perplexed, but ultimately grinned back. “Kid, I’ve never seen someone shut this guy down like that. Respect!”

“Hey, his bitch slaps hurt!” Dante protested. “Nearly killed me with that one!”

“Oh god,” Lady sniffled, still giggling. “I wish I could have seen that.”

“Nero, next time, give us a call beforehand,” Trish added, hand on Nero’s elbow as she leaned over to him. “We _have_ to see that.”

“Sure, deal.”

“Probably went like…,” Nico imitated being slapped in the face and falling over with dramatic flailing, earning another round of laughter. She resurfaced with one hand propped on the table, laughing so hard she was nearly crying. “S-Sorry, sorry, that was just too good to pass up.”

“Okay, okay, we _get_ it, punching me in the face is _funny_ ….”

“It is,” Nero interrupted, eyes dancing with laughter. “It really is.”

Glowering at the younger, Dante stuffed a slice of pizza whole into his mouth, chewing near _defiantly_ on it. The muttered “Punk.” was almost lost in cheese and tomato sauce.

 

“Alright, boys, no more fighting,” Kyrie announced, hands on her hips, fondness in her voice and smile on her lips. “We will enjoy our dinner together in _peace_.”

“Hear, hear!”

“That peace is gonna last two minutes, max.”

“The lady of the house has spoken, everybody shove some food into your mouth and shut up.”

“I can do that.”

“We _know_ you can.”

“Was that a jab at my healthy appetite?”

“Nothing healthy about that, old friend.”

 

The chatter started up again easily, quips and jabs flying left and right, gentle shoves and punches being dished out while everyone laughed and talked over each other, all the while taking seats and getting comfortable. In all the ruckus, it seemed to be forgotten that one of them was more stranger than friend, the good mood and company easing any suspicion for the time being.

Vergil found himself sandwiched between Dante’s old partner Morrison, who nodded at him before turning around to strike up a conversation with Trish, and Nico, who was so caught up in explaining a new gun to Lady she didn’t even seem to notice who sat on her other side, exactly. Dante was talking with his mouth full, getting whacked over the head by Trish for it and laughing, the sound muffled, looking unapologetic to boot. A few of the children living with Nero and Kyrie were still running around the table, laughing loudly, rushing from one of the adults to the other to ask for stories about their demon hunting adventures.

 

It was an absolute mess, and noisier than Hell itself, but the urge to stand up and leave for peace and quiet never came, much to Vergil’s surprise. Deciding that was just as well, he tasted a bit of the food before him.

He actually had to pause and savor the bite for a second, flavors bursting on his tongue. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten anything this savory.

 

“Hey, can anyone pass the pepper?” Nero’s voice rose above the ruckus, but he was still mostly unheard, everyone too caught up in something else.

It wasn’t even a conscious move, but Vergil had already reached out and handed the item across the table to his opposite before it really registered with him, making him pause in the middle of it.

Nero looked just as perplexed as he felt for the blink of an eye. Then surprise made way for a crooked grin as he accepted the shaker “Thanks… father.”

Vergil didn’t find any words to offer, mouth suddenly dry as his gaze met Nero’s, the same blue eyes as his own looking back at him without any sort of resentment – simply warmth.

 

_There would be a lot to do and atone for, and yet… yet…_

_The reward would be so, so worth it._

“So,” Nico piped up, startling both men out of their silence and then drawing the attention of everyone towards her. “Are we supposed to do a toast at this kind of thing? Like, _hey real neat that you didn’t die_ or somethin’?”

“You have a way with words,” Nero grumbled, leaning back. There was still a smile stuck in a corner of his mouth, and he couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Ah, you’re one to talk, smartass.”

“I think a toast is a great idea,” Kyrie interrupted the argument before it could even start. Raising her glass, she offered, “To Dante and Vergil?”

“Aw, don’t make me blush, kiddo,” Dante gave back, fluttering his eyelashes that made Trish snort loudly next to him. “How about – good to be back?”

“Still alive and kicking!” Lady offered, raising her own glass.

“To new beginnings?”

“To being too though to die!”

“To good food.”

 

“To family.”

 

Heads turned, surprised gazes straying to Nero, who held his glass high above his head, looking somewhere between amused and embarrassed.

“That’s a great idea,” Kyrie agreed, sending a soft smile his way that made Nero’s shoulder relax visibly.

 

“Yes.”

Vergil didn’t blink as all those gazes now snapped towards _him_ , openly staring at him as if nobody could believe that this single word had just come out of his mouth. He ignored them, focused fully on Nero opposite of him as he reached over and lifted his own glass to tip it towards the younger in silent acknowledgement.

The smile on Nero’s face widened, bright and sincere, and all the perplexed staring in the world could stop Vergil from feeling his heart grew lighter than it had been since he was a child.

 

It was Dante who spoke next, breaking the silence and bafflement by declaring, swinging his own glass up. “Best idea I’ve heard in a long while. To family!”

That seemed to break the spell over the group, and everyone laughed, cheered, agreed with bright smiles on their faces as they reached for their own glasses. Somewhere next to Vergil, Nico announced “You guys are gonna make me cry” and Nero laughed loudly at that, head thrown back, and even Vergil smiled, unseen in all the commotion.

 

“To family!”

“Yeah!”

**_“CHEERS!”_ **

 

Their combined voices, united in one bright, happy shout, could be heard over half the city.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

_“The truth is… I wanted to be protected and loved. But I was alone. My only choice was to survive.”_

_“V, you gotta rest.”_

_“Nero…”_

**-**

**V and Nero, Mission 17**

 

 

_“Thank you, Nero.”_

_-_

**Vergil to Nero, Mission 17**

 

**Author's Note:**

> * Title taken from DMC5's song "Legacy" because it seemed super fitting right then 
> 
> * Kyrie pointed out once, only once, that she thinks Nero's new Devil Trigger is handsome, and Nico never lets him live that down. Never. 
> 
> * I don't think Vergil remembers V's experiences ALL too clearly. He was merged back with Urizen, after all, and into Vergil, who is a completely different person. And Griffon and Shadow and Nightmare, fears and nightmares that were part of his life for so long, are suddenly gone. I would say that really messes with ones memories, emotions and overall moods… probably gonna take a while until he sorted that out


End file.
